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A is for “anxious,”
or why you’re awake.
‘cause B is for “boss”
with a decision to make.
C is for “cut-backs.”
Oh, when will they end?
Is D for “Depression,”
where no one can spend?
E is “economy,”
ours seems to be toast.
F is “You’re fired!”
the phrase you fear most.
G is for “Google,”
where you search for a job.
Joining H as in “horde,”
the great job-seeking mob.
I is not you,
but the “infinite” masses,
who flood all the “J-O-B” boards,
’til they’re slow like molasses.
401K was your net,
but it’s taken a hit,
meaning L is for “loss,”
— why you don’t have shit.
M is for “Me!?!?!?!
I’m supposed to be blessed!”
But N is for “No!”
You’re as screwed as the rest.
O is for “out of,”
what your luck seems to be.
And P? That’s “percent”
unemployed: 9.3.
Q is the “question:”
“What do we do now?”
“How do we “Recover”
from a financial KA-POW!
S is the “stimulus,”
which didn’t do squat,
T is the “Treasury,”
and the Main Street they forgot.
U is the “upside.”
But what could it be?
Making friends at unemployment?
Watching too much “TV?”
W‘s for the “worry”
that’s become all-consuming.
And X is “Rx’s”
The anti-depressant biz? Booming.
In the end there’s just Y,
your unspoken plea,
repeated each night,
in the absense of “Zzzz“
KID: How can you lose a house?
PARENT: What?
KID: How can you lose something as big as a house?
PARENT: No, you can’t really lose a house. When people say that they don’t mean “lose” like when you lose your shoes or a DVD case, they mean they’re going to have to give the house back to the bank.
KID: Why does the bank get it?
PARENT: Well… when people buy a house, they go to a bank and borrow the money they need to pay for it.
KID: Oh.
PARENT: So even though they live in the house, it’s technically “owned” by the bank until they pay the money back.
KID: Did we borrow money to pay for our house?
PARENT: Yes.
KID: So then it’s technically “owned” by the bank, too, until we pay them back?
PARENT: It is.
KID: Awesome. Do we have any orange paint?
PARENT: Why?
KID: ‘cause even though Mom won’t let me paint my room orange, I bet the bank would since that’s one of their colors.
Husband: What’s with all the trash bags?
Wife: We need to throw out everything in the cabinets that has peanuts in it.
Husband: First contaminated Chinese imports, now this – aren’t these signs of the apocalypse?
Wife: Just reach up there and grab that box of pancake mix from the top shelf, will ya?
Husband: Pancake mix?!?!?
Wife: And those potato chips, too.
Husband: Uh… last time I checked neither had peanuts in it.
Wife: Check again.
Husband: Wow – “Allergen warning: may contain peanuts.” Are there peanuts in everything?
Wife: That’s why people are so freaked out.
Husband: I better grab these two 96 oz. jars of Skippy we got at Costco while I’m up here, too.
Wife: No, they’re fine: peanut butter isn’t part of the recall.
Husband: What?
Wife: Doesn’t make sense, does it?
Husband: How can “peanut butter” not be part of a peanut recall?
Wife: Beats me.
Husband: You know what’s gonna happen, don’t you? In a few months the government’s gonna say they were wrong and that peanuts are okay and that the media just over-reacted.
Wife: Maybe.
Husband: So I say we forget this nonsense.
Wife: You want us to ignore the warning and go have a couple Snickers and a bag of Poppycock?
Husband: No – we’re still on our post-Christmas diet. But I don’t think we really need to throw anything out.
Wife: And you’re sure about that?
Husband: Sure enough.
Wife: Fine, but if anybody throws up in their bed… on the carpet in the living room… in the back seat of your car… you get to clean it up.
Husband: Me?
Wife: Yes.
Husband: All of it?
Wife: Yes.
Husband: On second thought, why take chances!
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